This is Jeopardy! by olivejuice26
by ControlPossessSeduceContest
Summary: He was slated to be the next Ken Jennings, already holding the record for second most won games in Jeopardy! history. But after she gets the call to be a contestant, Bella has one goal in mind: to end the reign of Edward Cullen. Contest entry for the Control. Possess. Seduce. Contest.


**Contest entry for the** **Control. Possess. Seduce. Contest**

 **Title** : This is Jeopardy!

 **Rating** : M

 **Summary** : He was slated to be the next Ken Jennings, already holding the record for second most won games in Jeopardy! history. But after she gets the call to be a contestant, Bella has one goal in mind: to end the reign of Edward Cullen.

 **Disclaimer** : The author does not own any publicly recognizable characters herein. No copyright infringement is intended. Author Note: The questions and Jeopardy! game play are fictional for the story. No copyright infringement of the game questions or names is intended.

* * *

 **This is Jeopardy!**

"Do you have everything?"

I looked around at the small suitcase, my laptop bag that was also my carry-on, and my purse. I had everything I'd need for at least a few days, though I was hoping to be there longer.

"I think so," I said with a sigh, turning to Rosalie. She gripped my shoulders, already anticipating the anxiety that I knew would be evident on my face.

"You got this, B. Go win the big bucks and knock that fine fucker off his high horse!"

"Please, can't you go with me?" I asked. I knew she couldn't. I was off for the summer from my teaching position, but she was an ER nurse, and emergencies stopped for no one.

"You know I wish I could. But I'll be watching every night," she told me with a smile. She pulled me into a hug, and I wrapped my arms around her, feeling the softness of her favorite worn scrubs.

"You say that like I'm going to make it past one game," I said.

"You will. You are going to beat him. Edward Cullen may be the second winning-est Jeopardy! contestant in history, but you'll go down as that badass bitch from the south who ended his streak. And then maybe you'll get lucky and get _him_ to streak," she winked.

They were calling Edward Cullen the next Ken Jennings. He was just seven games shy of matching Ken's record for most Jeopardy! games won.

I'd received the call last week that I'd been accepted to be a contestant, after three different tests and an in-person audition that they'd flown me to New York for, along with several other East Coasters. I'd only been there for a day, flying back that very same night. It had been stressful, but apparently had paid off.

I had dreamed of going on Jeopardy! for as long as I could remember. Growing up, my dad and I watched it in front of the TV nightly. I still called Charlie most nights so that we could guess at the final question together.

"You're so crude. I just want to win some money and play my favorite game," I said with a grin. She saw right through me.

"You will. And then Edward Cullen can take a victory lap with you... in your bed," she snorted.

"You're delusional," I said to her. But hell, he was gorgeous and a girl could dream.

A few hours later, I was boarding my connecting flight in Atlanta to head for California. I did what I'd been doing basically since I got the call that I'd be on the show; I studied my notecards. I had hundreds of cards with trivia questions, a product of a long night with Rose. She'd been quizzing me on them and I had been quizzing myself on them as often as possible.

I had my folder of paperwork that the studio had emailed me, complete with my agreement to appear on television, as well as my non-disclosure agreement regarding anything recorded that would be airing at a later date.

Tomorrow, they would film three shows consecutively, with an hour in between each taping for the returning contestant to change and appear as though he or she were returning on a new day.

Our episodes would begin airing on Thursday, and the competitors were unknown. But because of his astounding game play and subsequent fame, it was already well-known that Edward Cullen was the returning champion.

I also had a list of things I'd learned about him so far. It may have been extreme, but I needed to anticipate his moves.

For instance, I knew that he was a doctor from Chicago, unmarried, 35 years old, had one dog that he loved dearly, had traveled to over 20 countries, studied in three of those 20, and he apparently farted random trivia.

In his 66 consecutive wins, he'd missed less than 10 questions that he'd attempted to answer.

He was always the leader when it was time for Final Jeopardy!, and he always wagered just the right amount so that if he did happen to miss the question, he'd still beat the second place contestant by a dollar.

He picked from the board at random, searching out the Daily Double questions in an effort to answer them before the other contestants had the chance. If he was confident in a category, he'd go for the bigger money questions first.

He'd mastered the art of intimidation, and so far none of his opponents could keep up.

I also knew that he was incredibly attractive, which I suspect he used to his advantage. But he seemed so full of himself that I was certain his attraction was only physical.

Whatever the case, I was prepared to not let his appearance-that perfectly cut and gelled hair, the piercing green eyes, the complexion clear enough to star in a Proactive commercial, or the way he wore the actual fuck out of his suits-distract me from my ultimate goal.

Edward Cullen may have been good at Jeopardy!, but I was sure he would meet his match in me.

A few hours later, I had made it from the airport to the hotel where I'd be staying for the duration of my trip. The show producers had let me know that contestants were responsible for their own accommodations and provided a list of suggested hotels in various price ranges. Since I figured this may be my only trip to California, I opted for the nicer digs.

After checking in, I made my way to my 12th floor room and flopped onto the big, plush bed. My head ached from the constant reviewing of my notecards, but the growling of my stomach won out over the tiredness. It was ten o'clock my time, but I'd gone back a few hours so if I fell asleep now I'd be awake again at the ass crack of down.

I pulled myself up and decided to freshen up and go to the top floor restaurant and bar here at the hotel.

I only had a few nice outfits for tomorrow, in case I needed more than one for the taping, so I pulled on a flowing navy blue sheer top over a camisole and paired it with some leggings.

The restaurant was bustling when I arrived, but fortunately, I found an empty seat at the crowded bar.

I was halfway through my glass of Riesling and had just taken a big ass bite of steak when I heard a deep, smooth, strangely familiar voice behind me.

"Is this seat taken?"

I turned, meeting the eyes of none other than Edward Cullen. He was almost unrecognizable in his long sleeved t-shirt and blue jeans. He was also wearing glasses, which I'd never seen him wearing on the show.

His usually perfect hair was a mess, as though he'd just woken up. Or had really awesome sex.

I chewed quickly and really worked my ladylike charm as I swallowed, chasing the meat with a large sip of wine.

"No, ah, go ahead," I gestured, clearing my throat and setting down my fork.

"Thanks," he chuckled. Smug bastard. "You make that look good. I think I'll have the same," he said, gesturing to my plate when the bartender walked up to take his order.

I picked up my napkin and thought over the opportunity I had just been given. Here I was with my likely opponent in tomorrow's game. America's boy wonder was sitting right beside me. I was admittedly a little starstruck but had to force myself to remember that he was just a man. A man I was intent on beating the shit out of tomorrow.

But he didn't know who I was. To him, I was just a girl sitting alone in the bar of an upscale hotel restaurant, shoveling beef into my mouth like it was my last damn meal.

"Having a good night?" He asked, and I looked over to him, watching as he slid the sleeves of his shirt up to the middle of his forearms. I was surprised to see two arms full of ink, intricately and delicately woven in bursts of color. He hid this well under his suits. Seeing his tattoos threw in an element of surprise I wasn't expecting and left me momentarily distracted.

"Sorry, what?" I asked, looking up at him and really driving home the awesome first impression I was making.

"I asked if you were having a good night," he grinned, reaching for his own glass of wine that the bartender sat down in front of him.

"Oh, yeah. I mean, sure," I said.

"Business or pleasure?" He asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Are you staying here for business or pleasure?" He asked again as his plate was set in front of him.

I debated saying both, but I didn't want to have to share what kind of pleasure I meant, so I just told him business.

"You?" I asked.

"Business, as well," he nodded, picking up his knife and fork to carefully slice into his meat.

"You're tattoos are pretty. I mean, well, they look nice," I said, suddenly desperate to keep the conversation going.

"Thanks," he chuckled, popping a bit of meat and potato into his mouth and chewing slowly.

I went back to my own plate, hyper aware of his presence. Just being in this room with him was intimidating, a fact I was sure he knew and used to his advantage. His presence was distracting, and I was letting him get to me already. I was going to need to buck the fuck up if I was going to beat him tomorrow.

I pulled out my phone and, without even thinking, opened the Jeopardy! game app I played often.

I was three questions in when I heard "What is 'envelop'?" I turned to see Edward staring over my shoulder, leaning in to look at the game on my phone.

"I was going to get that one," I defended. The answer had been "to surround, enclose & conceal."

Suddenly I felt a little enveloped-by his carefully spritzed on cologne, by the wine on his breath, by the heat of his colorful skin.

"Just helping you out..." He trailed, as if finally deciding my name was important enough for him to know.

"Bella," I said, reaching for my nearly empty glass. The bartender had taken away my plate when I'd pushed it away from me.

"A pleasure to meet you, Bella. I'm Edward," he said, offering his hand to shake mine. I had to fight the urge to say "I know."

"Mind if I play with you?" He asked, nodding to my phone as he slid his now empty plate away and drained his glass.

"Sure," I said, seeing this as a rare and unforeseen opportunity to take a crack at my opponent.

That's when I realized again that I had the advantage here. He didn't know that I knew who he was. I didn't let on to recognizing him, and he clearly didn't get an impression from me that told him I was intelligent enough to play a real game of Jeopardy!

So I did what I hate to see girls do; I dumbed myself down. I knew all of the answers as we continued to drink more wine and play the game, but I pretended not to. I didn't know if this would actually help, but when he saw me tomorrow, perhaps he'd either know then that I was lying about my intellect, among other things, or he'd assume I was an easy target. Either way, it'd only add to the element of surprise he'd get upon finding me on the pedestal next to him.

As the night wore on, we played and laughed and sipped more wine than we should have. I was already feeling the fuzziness of a sip too many, and I knew my inhibitions were dropping.

We stayed until closing time, when the bartender asked if we needed a designated elevator driver.

We both laughed, paid our tabs, and walked out of the restaurant.

"What floor?" Edward asked as we stepped in.

And because drunk Bella was a bold Bella, I leaned into him and whispered, "probably the same as you."

It was all the invitation he needed to lean down and grab me, setting his lips on mine and pulling the air from my lungs, the feeling from my limbs, the beats from my heart. It was the hottest, most incredible first kiss I'd ever had, and I vaguely remembered thinking how unfortunate it was that I'd likely not remember it tomorrow.

Edward turned us and pushed me into the wall; my body felt weightless with the rapid decent of the elevator car. Edward ground himself into me, and I knew then that there was no going back. Tomorrow's regrets be damned, wherever he was leading me tonight, I was willing to follow.

What seemed like a million hours later, I cracked opened a sleep crusted eye to the bright morning light streaming through a slit in the curtains.

Then I heard the gentle snore from beside me and turned to see Edward, his bare chest and arms, covered in even more artwork than I'd thought.

I peaked under the blankets to see that we were both very much naked.

"Oh, balls," I whispered to myself, and then as quietly as possible slipped out of from the covers. I dressed in record speed and grabbed my bag.

Then I stopped and wondered if I should leave a note. It'd be kind of shitty not to, but I also didn't want to presume anything.

I mean, I'd see him later anyway. But he didn't know that.

Damn it, why did I have to complicate things?

I decided a note was useless, so I left and went straight to the elevator. I got to my room and grabbed my phone to plug it into the charger. Then I sat on the bed and decided I needed to confess my sins.

 _I did exactly what you told me to do. -B_

 _You won already? I thought you weren't even playing until later? -R_

 _No no. Not that. Not yet anyway. I did the other thing you told me to do... -B_

 _Eat at In-N-Out Burger? -R_

 _Omg, no! I ran a pre-victory victory lap with Edward! -B_

 _Holy shit! When? How'd you meet him already? -R_

I explained to Rose how a combination of good food, flowing wine, and a phone app lead to me rolling around in the sack with my rival who didn't know he was my rival.

We talked a bit longer through text but when I realized the time, I knew I needed to wash the previous night away and prepare for the taping. I was going on at three, but they told me to get there at noon for preparations.

I had enough time for a long shower, but I was so anxious that I sped through getting ready and still had time to spare.

The nerves in my stomach were making me uncomfortable. I didn't think I'd get this anxious about being in TV, but the longer I sat in my room, my hair and makeup perfectly done and my clothing wrinkle free, I realized that I was terrified.

Add to that the pressure of my stupid decisions from last night, and I was a mess.

I didn't regret sleeping with Edward. I just wished I'd waited until after I had to face him on national television.

My mind and nerves were such a mess, but I had no one to blame but myself. Well, myself and a bottle of Riesling.

I decided leaving early may be best, because I didn't want to risk seeing Edward before I got to the studio. If I had my way, I wouldn't see him again until we faced off for our taping. And that's counting on him winning against his first two opponents during the first taping. I wasn't on until the second show. But who was I kidding? The boy wonder couldn't be beat. I was starting to wonder if I had what it took to do it myself.

I grabbed my bag and notecards before I could let self-doubt hold me back. I'd made it this far. I was meant for this.

I was grateful to get to the hotel lobby without running into Edward anywhere, but of course as soon as I stepped out to get a taxi, I saw his familiar, perfectly gelled hair easing into a cab. He was wearing a dark blue suit tailored to him better than most frames fit works of art. Damn, why'd he have to be so beautiful and smart? Had I really slept with that?

I remembered the way his lips moved over my neck, the way they'd pulled my nipples in, the way his hands had spread me and glided over me until I was ready to explode. I remembered him filling me with his hugeness, I remembered screaming his name and a lot of "fucks." I remembered the ripples in his muscles as he roared triumphant inside of me.

Lord help me get through this day.

The taxi ride to the studio was short, and when I got out, I was met with a young man in khakis and an official looking polo and headset.

"Hi, I'm here for the Jeopardy! taping," I said to him as I approached the big metal framed building that was one of many surrounding us.

"Name?" He asked, holding an iPad up and scrolling.

"Isabella Swan."

"Miss Swan, please sign here," he pointed, handing me a stylus.

"Go through this door and to the end of the hall. Hang a left, and you'll see a check-in counter. You'll fill out more paperwork there, and then you'll be directed to your private dressing room to wait for the taping," he told me, pulling the door opened and ushering me in.

I did as he said and was met with a stern looking older woman at the window.

"Hi, I'm Isabella Swan. I'm here for the second show taping," I told her.

"Fill this out," she told me, handing me another iPad. Good to see everyone here was so friendly.

I anxiously looked around, but I didn't see any sign of anyone else yet. I filled out the electronic paper work and signed my name about 47 times before finally handing the iPad back to Susie Sunshine. She asked for the other paperwork I'd brought with me, and then directed me what to do next.

"You're dressing room is that way," she said, pointing to my left. "Third door on the right. You are free to stay in there until you're called for taping. Be ready by 2:45."

And with that I was dismissed.

I walked down the hall and saw a door with a piece of paper taped to it, "Swan" printed across it.

Just as I turned the handle, I heard the door behind me, across from my room, open with a pop. I looked back on instinct, and was met with the very surprised eyes of Edward Cullen.

"Bella?" He asked, confused.

"Edward, hi," I told him nervously.

"The fuck? What are you...?" He started, and then figured it out when he saw where I was going. "You're a contestant?" He asked, anger thick in his voice.

"I...yes..." I trailed. I hadn't expected to see him and I wasn't prepared to deal with his anger.

"Wow. I bet you feel pretty fucking good about yourself, huh? So you knew who the fuck I was the whole time?" He asked, his voice rising.

"Lower your voice, please," I leveled.

"What? Don't want anyone to know you were whoring yourself out to your competition?" Oh, no the fuck he did not. "How many others you sleep with, huh?"

"Wow, I guess getting laid didn't help your mood at all. You're as much an ass in person as you seem on tv," I threw at him.

"What, have you been watching me? Stalking me? Get on the show just to get a crack at me?"

"Get over yourself, man. I took the test to be on this show before I even knew who you were. Getting selected so I could come on here and beat your ass is just an added bonus."

"I can't believe you lied to me," he fumed.

"I can't believe your genius self didn't catch on sooner. How did you not assume I'd know who you were? You're famous now!" I hissed, because really was he so dense?

"How was I supposed to know you were a fan of this show?"

"We literally played the game on my phone together, dumbass!" I yelled, causing the person who was walking towards us, presumably another contestant, to stop short and look at us.

"Whatever. You got what you came for," he glared.

"Not hardly. I still have to beat your ass today," I smirked.

"You already got more of my ass then you deserve. Consider yourself lucky," he said through gritted teeth.

"Meh. What I remember of it. It wasn't...that remarkable," I snorted, cutting my eyes to his crotch and then back to his face.

I didn't give him time to respond before I opened my dressing room door and slipped inside, slamming it harder than was probably necessary.

I sighed against the door, simultaneously mad at myself for letting him get a rise out of me and proud of myself for not taking his hateful words.

I looked around the room, which was really the size of a large closet. A mirror and small bathroom were to the right, and a plush leather love seat and coffee table with a basket of snacks and drinks on it to the left.

I hadn't eaten yet today; but my nerves, which were quickly resurfacing, left me with little appetite.

I grabbed a bottle of water and settled into the love seat to review more notecard questions.

I noticed a TV mounted on the wall over the bathroom door, the remote on the table by the basket. I turned it on, but the screen was just blue and blank. I flipped it back off and went back to my notecards, trying to push the mess I'd created out of my mind.

I'd figured Edward wouldn't have reacted well when we saw me, but I didn't realize he'd be so furious. I guess I could see why he was. I'd known exactly who he was immediately. But that was of my own knowledge. It's not like he'd been forthcoming. Though, truthfully he probably didn't feel the need to be. If anything, he probably appreciated his anonymity after so long in the spotlight.

But come on. We played the very game that was making him a household name. He had to assume I'd know who he was or at least heard about him.

I guess he thought the glasses and tattoos were enough of a disguise. I suppose not everyone had studied him the way I had. In some ways I felt I knew him more than I did. I'd caught myself several times the night before letting on to things a stranger wouldn't know. I'd had to reel myself in often.

But that had all been because I wanted to beat him. I wanted to be the one to take Edward Cullen out of the game. Even if I didn't get any further than two games, I would be victorious in ending the reign of the cocky kid from Chicago.

I did still want that. But after last night, I wasn't so sure he was such a bad guy. He seemed like an arrogant asshole on TV, but last night he was charming and funny. He was kind and chivalrous in letting me through the doors first (before pushing me against them in an amazing kiss). And he was passionate. I was completely lying when I said he was unremarkable.

He was, admittedly, the best sex I'd ever had. Which was unfortunate considering I'd never get to have him again.

I was brought from my thoughts by a knock at my door. I wondered briefly if it was him coming for another sparring match, but I realized it was five minutes to one and he'd be on stage preparing for his first taping to start.

I opened the door to yet another person, a young woman with short red hair, wearing the same outfit as the man outside, headset and all.

"Miss Swan, the first taping will begin soon. Your television should pick it up once the recording starts. You are welcome to watch it before your taping," she said, then turned and moved to another dressing room door before I could say another word.

I walked back to the love seat and turned the TV back on, this time showing a clear picture of the stage where the three contestants were already standing.

Edward, being the reigning champion, was at the first podium. Beside him was an older woman, shorter than him by at least a foot, her hair grey and piled on top of her head. Beside her was a man who looked about my age, with jet black hair and a nervous smile.

I could already tell that Edward had this game in the bag.

I watched as Alex came on stage and introduced himself and the players. It was strange watching without the introduction music or any of the details that production added in. It went straight to the game.

Edward answered the first five questions, and when Eric, the third contestant, finally buzzed in, he mispronounced the word, dropping him in the negatives by $600. Of course, Edward buzzed in right after and said the word correctly, smugly annunciating it as it should be said.

After the first "break" for commercials, Alex did his mini interview with each contestant. Eric nervously stumbled through an explanation of his job as a law firm paralegal. Shelly, the yet to have answered middle contestant, gushed about her chickens that she had at home. They were all named after the Kardashians, and she called them her "Kardashchickens." That made the audience laugh, as well as Alex, as he awkwardly moved on to Edward.

"Well, Edward, you've been on the show for 67 days now. I think everyone is wondering what you do in your downtime, when you aren't demolishing the game," Alex said cheekily.

"Well, Alex, I've recently discovered the Jeopardy! app. In fact, I played for a while last night," he grinned, his eyes shining.

"Oh, I've heard from many that the app is actually more difficult than the questions we ask on the show," Alex stated.

"Oh, I'm sure that's true for many. But I had no trouble with it," he said, looking straight at the camera, straight through it to me. What. A. Dick.

"I'm sure you didn't," Alex chuckled. "All right, contestants. Let's get back to it. Edward, you've still got command of the board."

Command it he did. He continued to answer the majority of the questions. Eric pulled himself out of the negatives. Shelly found herself in Double Jeopardy!, but by the time the game was over, Edward still had a $12,000 lead over them both. They could bet all they had and Edward could bet nothing, and still he'd win. Which settled it. In just over an hour, I'd be facing off with Edward and some other poor soul.

I turned the TV off before I could watch the final question. I knew Edward would win. I didn't really care with what question or by how much he did so.

I looked down at my buzzing phone and opened a text from Rose.

 _Knock 'em dead, today. Love you, B!_

I sent a quick thanks back and then took a deep breath. I was still an hour away from show time, but I felt like I had zero time left.

I was startled by knock on the door. Expecting another khaki crusader, I got up to open it. Before I could say anything, Edward pushed the door in and then slammed it behind him. He grabbed me roughly, though not painfully, and kissed me harder than he had the night before.

This was a kiss of anger. He was out to prove himself. He was making sure I knew how mad he was. He was making sure I wouldn't forget.

"You think I'm unremarkable? Huh? You think you can forget about me?" He asked, both of us breathing heavy, so close we were pulling in the air the other pushed out.

"What are you doing...?" I trailed, knowing this was a terrible idea but not giving a flying fuck.

"I'm showing you how fucking remarkable I can be," he growled, pulling my lips to his again and wrapping my body up in his big arms. He walked me backwards, somehow avoiding the coffee table and pushing me down to the love seat.

"Oh my god," I moaned, as his lips worked my neck, his tongue gliding gloriously across my skin.

I pushed his jacket off of his shoulders and he yanked my blouse up over my head so that I was in my skirt and bra.

I made quick work of his tie and the buttons, hoping he had something else to wear for later but honestly not really caring either way.

"You like that, baby?" He asked, sliding his hand up my thigh and roughly cupping my panty covered pussy. "Yeah, you fucking love it," he said as I moaned, my head falling back against the arm rest.

His other hand moved up my back and clawed at my bra. Somehow the smooth fucker got it off with one hand, pulling it from me so that my chest was bare.

I whimpered as he blew his cool breath across my tight nipple. I thought he was going to take it in his mouth but he stopped, hovering just over me, his breath still fanning across my naked breast.

"It breaks down alcohol and destroys old red blood cells," he said. Wait, what?

"Huh?" I asked, desperation in my voice.

"Answer me and I continue. I said, it breaks down alcohol and destroys old red blood cells," he repeated, his mouth so close to me.

"The...the liver..." I whimpered as he blew again on my nipple.

"Answer it the right way," he growled, his voice low, his chest rumbling against me.

"What is the liver?" I nearly screamed as his mouth latched onto me finally. His tongue swirled and pulled as his left hand found my other breast and squeezed.

After a few long, glorious seconds, he repositioned so that he was over my other breast, fanning his breath across me, again just a few centimeters from making contact.

"This author was inspired to write her Romantic period classic when her husband and friends held a ghost story competition," he said, his sexy voice making every part of me squirm.

"Who is Ma-Mary Shelly!" I said loudly, letting out a long moan to follow when he pulled my tight nipple into his wet mouth.

"Fuck, yes," I groaned, my hands fisting into his hair, ruining the perfect gel creation.

His mouth worked down my stomach, circling my belly button before he slid his fingers into the waist of my skirt and panties. Before he tugged down, he sat up, looking square into my eyes.

I tried to hold eye contact but had to close my eyes when his gaze became too intense.

"You win this type of showdown when your opponent blinks," his whispered, his smug mouth twisting into a sexy grin when I opened my eyes again.

"What is a staring contest?" I chuckled, then moaned as his hands pulled the rest of my clothes off. He pulled his undershirt off so that his chest was bare.

I took a moment to marvel at all the ink, the works of art splattered all over him in a cacophony of beauty and color.

"You're sexy as fuck," he whispered, his hand reaching down to my bare lips, his index finger making a trail along them but not dipping in.

"You're not so bad yourself," I grinned, my eyelids fluttering at the amazing sensations he was giving me.

"This title command by Hozier precedes the line 'I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies'," he said, his finger hovering over where I needed it most.

"What is 'Take Me to Church'?" I replied, breathless as his finger found my clit, wet with the unadulterated eroticism he was giving me.

His finger swirled, sliding down and into me, pumping as his thumb came down on my clit. Damn, this man's hands.

"Fuck, that feels so fucking good," I whimpered, my chest heaving as he worked me into euphoria.

Without removing his hands, he dropped to his knees, his face between my legs. His mouth and tongue found my inner thighs, swirling designs across my skin. I was whimpering loudly now, uncaring as to who may hear.

He switched thighs, kissing until his mouth was level with his still moving hand. He pulled his fingers out and I looked down at him, watching as he took the fingers that had just been in me and slid them into his mouth.

"Mmm, you taste better than any steak or wine I've ever had," he murmured, then put his arms under my legs and pulled me to the edge of the love seat.

He blew his breath over my open, wet pussy, letting the air hit my clit. I shivered violently at the feel of it, anticipating what he was about to do with his talented mouth.

"The official language is this... _tongue_...of the islands' former colonial masters," he whispered from between my legs. Damn it all to hell, I didn't know this one.

"Come on, Isabella," he said, talking directly into my wet center.

"Fuck, I don't know!" I whined, desperate for the answer, desperate for his mouth on me.

"Sao tome," he whispered. "Príncipe," he said, reverently against me.

"Oh, oh! Portuguese!"

"Ah ah ah," he responded, but I could hear that his mouth was opened for what he was about to do.

"Fuck! What is Portuguese?" I screamed, and his mouth crashed into my pussy, his tongue diving into my clit like it was made of fucking sugar.

"Yes, oh my fuck, yes!" I screamed, my legs tightening around his head as his mouth worked me up and down. His tongue dipped into me, swirling and pushing, then slide back out and up to my swollen clit.

His teeth grazed it before he sucked on it, causing me to scream out my orgasm. My legs shuddered hard around him as he licked me through it, letting me ride out my high on his face.

Finally he sat up and stood to his feet, leaving me lying exposed in front of him. I watched as he unbuttoned his pants, letting them and his boxers fall to the floor, his impressive dick springing free. He was erect and glistening with pre cum. Leaving his pants around his ankles, he lowered himself to his knees on the couch and grabbed my legs, turning me so that he could line us up, moving me as if I was nothing.

"Damn it," he groaned, reaching up to clutch his hair. "I don't have a condom."

"It's okay, I'm on the pill. And...I trust you," I said to him. He was a doctor, after all.

"How do I know you aren't trying to get knocked up with the Jeopardy! millionaire's kid?" He asked, smirking as his long cock bounced against me.

"Fuck you," I said, trying to scoot away, pissed at his assumption.

He caught my hips and held me in place, leaning down to line himself up with my entrance.

"That's the intent," he winked, pushing just the tip into me, causing me to forget my anger.

"It's the deadly sin inspired by illustrations in Playboy," he said, unmoving even as I tried desperately to push myself against him, to take more of him in.

"What is lust?" I growled, and was rewarded with his beautiful smile as he sunk into me and leaned down, balancing his weight on his arms on either side of me.

"I think your almost ready to go out there and play, Miss Swan," he breathed, then captured my lips in a searing kiss as he pumped in and out of me. I kissed him back with abandon, tasting myself and him, tasting ecstasy on his mouth.

"Fuck, yes, Edward!" I moaned. "Fuck me harder. Please, please fuck me harder!" I cried.

As he pumped, he grabbed me around my waist and pulled me up with him. He moved so that he was sitting on the couch and I was straddling him, never breaking out connection.

"That's it, baby. Bounce on my cock. Ride me hard. Give me something to think about when I'm out there stomping your ass," he whispered, and I growled, a mixture of anger and pleasure.

"You. Are. Going. The. Fuck. Down," I told him breathlessly, each word marked with a thrust.

"I'd say I already did, angel," he laughed.

We were quiet then as he moved his hand down between us, finding my clit with his thumb.

I had my hands in his shoulders, those beautifully marked up muscles that I wanted more time to explore.

"Fuck, baby. You feel so good," he moaned. I leaned in, putting my lips against his as I rode him, his hips meeting each thrust of mine.

On the brink of my second orgasm, his hands and hips stopped, and I whimpered, so close and needing him just a little bit more.

"Final Jeopardy!, baby," he whispered, his hand still between us as, holding my orgasm just out of reach. "What do you wager?"

"What?" I asked, trying to move again. He kept me still with his other hand.

"You've got $16,000. What do you wager?" He asked again, his low voice all sex and seduction.

"Fuck. I don't fucking care," I whined, struggling to move my body.

"I'll wait," he said, his smile so fucking cocky and beautiful.

"Ugh. All of it!" I screamed.

He started rubbing again, letting me bounce again, but controlling it so that it was all slower than before.

"Inspired by a young adult book series, this was the most popular boy name from 2006-2012," he said with a groan as I worked to bounce harder.

His rubbing got faster, and he pounded into me, rough and hot and raw and perfect.

"Edward!" I cried out, wave after wave of pleasure scorching my veins, making me shake as I felt him growl a "Bella" into my mouth. He let go then, coming inside of me, pumping in rhythm to my own pulsing.

"Holy shit that was good," I said, sighing and letting myself relax against him. He put his arms around me and kissed my head as I laid my cheek on his chest.

"Would you say it was remarkable?" He asked and I just laughed against him.

I sat back up then, looking into his eyes. He gave me a gentle kiss, so different than what we'd just shared.

"Despite my current position, I'm not a whore, ya know," I said. I couldn't keep the hurt from my voice. I didn't sleep around and he was the only one night stand I had ever had.

"I know. I shouldn't have said that earlier," he told me, honesty in his green eyes.

We were startled by a knock on the door.

"Ten minutes to call time, Miss Swan," we heard through the door.

"Shit, I've got to get dressed and fix what you messed up," I said, using my hand to gesture to my face and hair.

"You should leave it. That freshly fucked look suits you," he smiled.

"Edward?" I asked after he'd put his pants and white shirt back on. He'd draped his suit jacket over his arm, and I could faintly see the ink under the white sleeves of his button down.

When he looked at me expectantly, his penetrating gaze less intimidating now that I was fully dressed again, I continued.

"I owe you an apology, too. It was never my intent to deceive you. I honestly just came here to win. You caught me by surprise last night. You were so much more than I expected. I didn't want to scare you off," I explained.

"It's okay, Bella. It probably would have scared me off, and then I'd have missed out on the best sex I've ever had," he smiled, one of the most genuine smiles I'd seen him show yet.

"The best ever, huh?" I asked.

"Don't let it go to your head, Swan."

"I am sorry, though," I said sincerely.

"How about you make it up to me and buy me dinner?" He asked.

"Hmm, I could. Or we could just say whoever loses today buys dinner," I said, throwing his signature smirk back at him.

"Well then I guess you're buying either way," he laughed, leaving the room.

As hot as this had been, I'm pretty sure this was only foreplay for what was about to come.

* * *

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